Riding High
by RoastedWolf
Summary: AU. Olivia is a werewolf coping with her disease the only way she can. Alex is a vampire living in plain sight. Set in Season 3 and may or may not continue through.
1. Chapter 1

Olivia Benson paused as she reread the report in that morning's paper to look outside the precinct window. The bullpen was empty but for her, the clock gradually ticking the seconds down to 1 o'clock in the morning. The veil of night pressed close to the slightly fogged windows, accentuating her solidarity. Her dark eyes were ringed with exhaustion – the case she was working was finally over, the sick fuck that'd raped and killed four innocent teenage girls had been tossed into a cell, where he belonged. Somehow, however, the report she'd been reading didn't seem to do it justice.

She glanced down at the printed words again, feeling melancholy close in around her. Her long fingers pressed close to the almost fragile paper before she put it down on her desk with a finality that indicated she was done. With a long sigh she got to her feet, stretched and made her way to the window, peering outside onto the street. It was almost empty – she watched a stray cat tentatively scrounging around in the trash across the road – and peacefully quiet. It was times like this she felt she could really _think_.

Despite having caught the perp, the damage had been done. Those families weren't going to get their precious daughters back. Her jaw clenched, dark eyes squeezing closed as she hung her head.

"Olivia?"

She jumped and turned as her hand flew to her empty holster, her heart hammering loudly in her throat.

Alex paused as she saw Olivia panic. The detective's gun was lying on the desk – for some reason the sharp slight of arousal was spurred in her gut.

"It's nice to see you jump to your gun upon immediately seeing me." Alex said coolly.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked, ignoring Alex's rather irritating tone, her surprise fading as soon as it had come. Her voice was sharper than she intended and she softened it as those icy blue eyes x-rayed her from the door. "Shouldn't you be at home?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Alex replied as she stepped forward on extremely pricy high heels. "I am here to pick up some paperwork regarding the Allers' case. Elliot told me it was on his desk, but I didn't have time to pick it up this afternoon."

Pale fingers carefully plucked the file in question off the desk as Olivia sat back down at her desk.

"So tell me, Detective. Why are you here?"

Olivia shrugged, "Can't sleep. Didn't want to go home yet."

Something in Alex's eyes softened and she moved round to the detective's desk, settling on it, long legs folded neatly. Olivia's gaze trailed down those never ending legs before she realised what she was doing and snapped back to cold ice. Shit. She hoped Cabot hadn't noticed.

"Was it the case?" Alex probed gently.

"No." Olivia heaved another sigh and continued rather gloomily, "It's nearly the full moon."

The detective's insides squirmed as the ADA actually laughed. It wasn't a cold, self-satisfied laugh that indicated whoever was in Alex Cabot's bad books was about to have a very rough time. It was a real laugh – warm, vibrant, happy… and completely breath taking. Much like the rest of her.

"The full moon?" Those x-ray like eyes twinkled with mirth as she gazed down at the rapidly reddening face. A very attractive rapidly reddening face, Alex thought with an internal smirk.

"Yeah, well, I have trouble sleeping around the full moon."

"Goodness, next, they'll be telling me you're a werewolf. I'm sure I've got some silver bullets somewhere."

Olivia rolled her eyes but her palms started to sweat slightly, "I'm not a werewolf. And even if I was, it'd take more than silver bullets to put me down."

"I'm sure," Alex purred, shifting slightly closer. The move did not go unnoticed, however, and Olivia studied her suspiciously. Alex valiantly managed to beat back a blush of embarrassment at having been caught. "So," she continued to starve the awkward moment, "what are you then? Halloween was a month ago. You've got to have some idea – I mean, what did you go out as?"

Olivia grunted in a non-committal way, avoiding the ADA's gaze. "I don't celebrate Halloween." Too many painful memories of trying to get her mother sober enough to help her make a costume, or to at least buy one for her.

Alex made a mock-horrified noise and clapped a hand to her mouth. "'Don't celebrate Halloween'? Didn't you even go to the office party?"

"No. Why, did you?"

"Yes, every year. One has to keep up appearances, even at such… informal occasions."

Olivia snorted, "Who do you go as to these fancy parties? Glinda's evil twin sister, the Wicked Witch of the North?" She softened the potentially hurtful barb by grinning at Alex cheekily. Her suddenly sullen mood was lifted when Alex laughed again, tossing her head back and revealing that lovely, pale throat. A pale throat she would very much like to mark…

"I'll have to do that next year." Alex was saying, pulling Olivia's brain firmly back into reality. "No, I'm a bit of a cop-out I'm afraid. I went as a vampire."

Olivia blinked and then laughed, "Well, that's not exactly dressing up. You're a lawyer."

Alex swatted Olivia on the shoulder with the folder, laughing still. She couldn't understand how she was so relaxed. Only two seconds ago she'd had her usual stick up her ass, waiting to go home so she could get some well-earned sleep. But Olivia hadn't even had to fuck her to remove said stick. Which was a shame, she thought shrewdly, examining Olivia as the detective continued to laugh while rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. She would have liked to have been fucked.

"I'm a good lawyer though."

"Oh, what, a veggie vampire? Like those ones in those books teens are obsessed about these days?"

Alex twisted her face, "I don't read such rubbish. I read respectable vampire books. Like Dracula."

"Right…" Olivia glanced up at the clock and sighed again. "I should probably head home. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow, I can tell. Thursday is the best day for perps to commit crimes. It's not quite the weekend, but it's not Wednesday either, which means it's a good day."

Alex watched, amused, as the detective got to her feet and stretched, yawning. The tight polar neck did nothing to hide any of her assets: a smooth stomach, the gorgeous breasts. Her eyes swept up to focus on lips that were just begging to be kissed... On dark eyes gazing straight into her own, clearly aware of where she had been looking. Alex had the courtesy to blush and affix her gaze onto the gun still lying on the table.

"See something you like?" Olivia teased, her heart suddenly thumping high in her throat. She tried to keep her overactive imagination under control.

"I was just thinking you looked exhausted."

"Well, I haven't slept in a while."


	2. Chapter 2

_The A.L.A., or the American Lycanthrope Association, is an underground support group for lycanthropes living in America. The A.L.A. have carefully registered every werewolf they can find; opening support groups, providing counselling and much needed aid for those in denial of their condition and supplying them all with a revolutionary drug called _BiteWise_._

BiteWise_ deadens the effects of the transformation, effectively squashing the urge to transform at the full moon, sometimes rendering the victim completely transform free, or ensuring a docile animal form. The effectiveness of the drug is wholly dependant on the potency of the illness these people are infected with._

…

Olivia had been fighting the transformation almost all day. Even _BiteWise _couldn't quash that itch. She'd been swallowing it down like bile since around one that afternoon. So it was with a wave of relief that she shouldered open the door to her apartment, locked it up tight behind her and hurried to her bedroom, casting her clothes aside as quickly as she could. The light from the plump moon cast long shadows over her bedroom floor as she cast aside her underwear and lunged onto the bed. Her heart was pounding hard in her head, beating faster than was possible for any normal human. Sweat bloomed over her naked skin and her mouth opened in a wild gasp as the first heave of the transformation overtook her.

It started with her hands. She'd learnt not to watch as she felt her nails lengthen into sharp claws and fur spring out over her body. It itched like a poisonous rash, spreading from her spine over her heated flesh. Heart thundering, she felt the sweet pain of her bones cracking into place as jaw and teeth lengthened into muzzle and fangs. Olivia squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her spine lengthened, a tail growing large and fluffy in the light from the city outside.

An animalistic groan escaped her as the final shifting shudders of the change faded. Panting, she collapsed onto the comforter, keeping her eyes firmly closed. The transformation was painful; she'd known that from the first time she'd ever had to endure it. But it hurt more to fight it. When she'd finally understood the inevitable, the transformation had a sweet pain not dissimilar to the pain of twisting a wobbly tooth just a little too far. To fight the change was to feel as though every inch of flesh was twisting.

Olivia opened her eyes and rolled onto her back, arms and legs splayed. Her chest still rose and fell heavily, but her heart was slowing now. The ceiling above flickered as traffic moved outside. Her stomach gurgled with hunger – she hadn't eaten in a while, and transforming always made her hungrier than usual.

As Olivia moved off the bed and rolled her furred shoulders, she caught sight of her reflection in the window. For a werewolf, she didn't look particularly wolfish. She looked more like an overgrown German shepherd with very pointed ears. The pads on her hind paws felt similar to treading on thick wax, except she could feel every bristle of the carpet below. The deep pools of her eyes met her reflection's. The deep brown was the only familiar thing about her. They were bottomless, and full of memories she would rather forget.

With a huff she ducked into her closet and pulled on some loose men's boxers and a huge t-shirt. Her tail poked through the large leg of the boxers, curling slightly out of the bottom. Even with fur, New York could be cold in the winter months. She made her way out of her bedroom and to the kitchen, casually flicking the lights and television on as she passed. CNN news hummed in the background as she opened her fridge door, peering into it to discover one box of Chinese takeaway from two days ago. Reaching in, she cradled it in one curled hand. One blessing of the transformation – she still had opposable thumbs. It had taken her a while to get used to a hand so curled that she couldn't open the fingers properly.

Taking the box out, she peered down the unwieldy muzzle and took a tentative sniff. It smelt fine so she shoved it into the microwave and let it hum and swivel for a couple of minutes. As a lycanthrope she had the luxury of heightened senses in both human and animal forms. Her hearing was so acute she could hear the buzz of the light bulbs and the soft hum of a hoover two floors down. Extreme hearing got irritating sometimes but was extremely useful in her line of work. Her sense of smell and taste was sensitive enough to detect the chemicals of pesticides on salad leaves straight out of the packet. Indeed, her disease had changed her diet dramatically. She preferred meat – red meat done rare.

She caught the microwave just before it binged. The sound hurt her ears, and it was with a certain frenzied delight that she tore open the packet and grabbed a fork. Humming contently, she headed into the sitting room, settling on the sofa and starting to eat.

Olivia let the news wash over her as she ate. It had been a night like this one just over four years ago when she'd been bitten. She'd come home late after finishing up the paperwork after a long, hard case when she'd heart a soft moan in the alley beside her apartment building. Armed and ready, badge in hand, she'd decided to investigate, as was her civic duty.

The beast had attacked her before she could even pull the trigger. Lycanthropes knew how to move in absolute silence. She still had the scar, just above her left knee where the werewolf had torn into her with inch long fangs. It had taken less than five seconds before the creature had loped away, slavering and snarling as it went. Somehow, she got herself to Mercys and was treated for the dog bite. It was only after she'd been getting ready to leave when the representative from the A.L.A. had visited her, and opened her world to lycanthropy.

Olivia had lived through a month of denial before the first full moon. Her first transformation had been traumatising painful. She'd begged the A.L.A. for the _Bitewise_ pill. Unfortunately, her disease was strong, but at least she kept her sanity.

Olivia hummed softly to herself as she ate the last of her takeaway. Her long pink tongue licked at her black lips and she got to her feet, padding back into the kitchen. Olivia really hadn't thought she'd ever meet another werewolf in her lifetime. Therefore, she was surprised when she found out George Huang was a fellow lycanthrope. It was he who had given her the hope of having a normal life.

She felt her tail wag at thought of the FBI agent as she leaned into the freezer. He was so calm, and collected, and kind. She had enormous respect for him; so much so, that she'd even allowed him to see her other form. Of course, she'd also seen his. He was thinner and shorter than her in his lupine form, and more wolf-like.

Olivia was peering at the Ben and Jerry's ice cream, trying to decide if she was going to indulge her only vice, when the doorbell rang. She straightened quickly, panic making her hackles rise. Shit, she thought. Who the hell could be calling on her at this time of the night?


	3. Chapter 3

Alex Cabot stood outside of Olivia's door, holding a white plastic bag full of takeout and A _Gone With the Wind _DVD, trying to think of an excuse as to why she was even there at all. So far, her usually collected mind was coming up with nothing other than a lame 'because I wanted to see you'. The ADA sighed softly to herself as she rang the bell again. It was a crisp, sharp sound that conveyed her impatience.

"Who is it?" Said a voice from the other side of the door. Alex rolled her eyes.

"Olivia, it's me. Alex."

There was a silence so loud Alex could have sworn she heard it roaring in her ears. She heard someone shuffle on the other side of the door before Olivia spoke again.

"You can't be here…" Olivia's voice was deeper than usual – rougher, and the 'r' rolled as though her tongue was… elongated. Alex blinked and took a step back, feeling unexpectedly hurt and disappointed. "This isn't a good time."

Alex pulled herself together, "Oh. Right. I, ah, bought you some dinner." Olivia had never outright refused her before – not without a reason, and that was usually due to work.

"Thanks, Alex. I'm… not very well. Just um… leave it outside the door." Olivia's voice faltered, "I don't want you to get my um… flu."

"Flu?" The ADA's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Olivia, don't you want me to help you out?" She took a step closer to the door, pressing a hand against it as though she could somehow transport herself through the solid wood.

"No, it's alright. Don't want you getting this." Olivia laughed roughly. "Seriously, Alex, go home. I'll see you on Monday after I get over this flu."

There was something in Olivia's tone that brokered no negotiation. Alex sighed to herself and nodded, placing the plastic bag outside the door before stepping back again. "I'll see you on Monday, Olivia. I hope you get better soon."

With that, Alex turned and headed back down the corridor, her mind occupied on the woman in the apartment behind her. She and Olivia had had little get-togethers before – nothing fancy: a dinner here, a trip to the movies there. Friendship get-togethers. They were enjoyable, all be it a little passive. Alex couldn't deny that she wanted more, lots more, from the detective. So far however, Olivia had proven resilient to Alex's subtle advances. Alex was indeed subtle – she would wear a slightly higher skirt when she was to meet Olivia that day, and sometimes she'd even unbutton her shirts lower than she normally would. But Olivia Benson was notoriously stubborn.

Alex headed out of the apartment block and out onto the street as a cloud passed out of the way of the full moon. She peered up, its soothing light caressing her pale skin. She'd made sure she had been prepared for a dinner and movie night with Olivia. She'd even fed, just so she wasn't overwhelmed with the temptation to taste the warm, thick tang of blood. The woozy bartender she'd managed to coerce into being dinner would feel better in the morning. She remembered the shocked horror in his eyes as she walked towards her car, parked on the kerb. She always felt so… guilty after feeding. Being a vampire had its downsides.

Alex had been born into an ancient family of vampires – when her great, great grandfather (going back to the 1700s), John Cabot, had moved from his birthplace in the Channel Islands to Salem, Massachusetts, he had fell afoul of a witch, who had cursed him and his family to everlasting life, with a thirst for blood. Of course, the curse had been diluted as the years had passed, and Alex's vampirism has pale in comparison to the original curse. She could walk free in the sunlight, for example, and her bite was not likely to pass on the disease. She was also unlikely to live forever – she'd last perhaps one hundred and fifty years at most.

She turned her mind to the vampire-fever that had plagued the youth of the age as she got into her Mercedes and started it up. She had always thought vampires in the stories and films were extremely overrated. Alex was a normal person, with normal senses and a not so secret weakness for old movies. Rather than being frozen in time, she aged only very slowly. Perhaps the only difference between herself and the average human on the street was that she was eighty years old. Oh, and she also had to drink at least a pint of blood once a week.

The traffic was slow as Alex snailed her way through the city. She was suddenly desperate to get home. Tomorrow was Saturday and she had no cases to prosecute, nothing to do but laze around all day and relax. She smiled to herself as she stopped at yet another red light. Maybe she'd order pizza and watch _North by Northwest_. Besides being a lover of old movies, she had a soft spot for Hitchcock. She often pondered if it was because she had been alive when they'd all first hit the theatres. She supposed it was lucky Olivia was also a Hitchcock lover…

Alex shook her head as her thoughts turned to Olivia Benson once again. The detective was so alluring. In all her life, she'd never met someone quite like the woman. She was brave, and wise and kind. Her sheer determination to do what was right endeared Alex to her. After seeing eighty years of harsh reality, which included the Great Wall Street Crash and the Second World War, Alex had come to realise such righteous resolve and utter devotion to victims of misfortune was rare. It was partly due to this, and her ability to look completely irresistible in a leather jacket, that Alex was attracted to her. She'd first met Olivia almost two years ago, back in 2000, on October the 20th.

At first Alex had been taken aback by Olivia's hostility – she supposed the detective had had every right to be disgruntled with her. It wasn't so much her, she had reasoned, but what she represented: upper class snobs who'd had everything given to them on a silver platter. And, back then, she had been. But the two years she'd spent working with the Special Victims Unit had changed the victims from faceless future voters to people who she felt rather protective of.

Gradually, Olivia had warmed up to her and, despite their rather heated arguments, they'd managed to have a good rapport outside of work.

And so, after many dinner dates and movie nights, Alex Cabot had found she was steadily falling for the beautiful detective with her deep, bottomless brown eyes and the stubborn little clench of her jaw when she got angry, or the way her hair was always dreadfully ruffled after spending a long night in the crib. In all of her eighty years, she'd never met a woman quite like Olivia Benson.


	4. Chapter 4

John Lowell hummed as he checked his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. His soft, sandy hair fell carelessly over his forehead, hiding a pair of stunningly dark grey eyes, which roved restlessly from his phone, to the clock on the dashboard of the car. It was almost nine thirty. Darkness had fallen four hours ago, and the stars gazed coldly down at him. He sighed, his breath huffing out in a plume of grey. It was cold. But not so cold as to be uncomfortable. Not for him. He was the last of a dying tradition and as such, mere cold would not deter him from his prey. With one last check of his phone, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat and hunkered down, staring out of his car at the window on the penthouse level of the apartment building. The light inside had just gone out.

* * *

The first time Olivia felt the urge to transform without the influence of the moon was when she was driving on the freeway, pushing 70, making her way north for a couple of enforced personal days. Her jaw and teeth had ached as her heart pounded in her head, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a second heartbeat. The feeling had been fleeting, but incredibly intense, and she'd had to pull over and just breathe for almost ten minutes before the sickening urge had fully passed.

"Liv?"

Olivia jerked out of her thoughts and almost upset her now cold coffee. She blinked before shooting the man across the desk a filthy look. Elliot, far from being chastised, looked amused.

"You were away in the clouds there, partner. You alright?"

"Yeah." Olivia sighed, and rubbed her face. It was Monday morning, and she was already knee deep in paperwork – unfortunately, she'd been preoccupied with transforming, and so she had let the important reports slide. Now, she was paying for it. Hand cramped with writing since six that morning, she was already looking forward to lunch.

"You sure? You look like crap."

She scowled at Elliot, her brow furrowing. "Thanks for the compliment. Jeez, there's a such a thing called a white lie, y'know."

"White lies are not always good."

Both detectives looked up just as Alex approached the desk. Olivia experienced a strange lurching sensation somewhere deep in her gut – it was almost as though her stomach was trying to decide whether it should leap or sink. She had expected this visit, and had been both looking forward to and dreading it.

"Mornin' Alex," Elliot grinned, turning in his chair to watch the ADA as she came to a halt. Her clear blue eyes focused on Olivia for a moment before she addressed Elliot.

"Good morning. I've come to collect the Collins file for court on Wednesday."

Olivia did her best to look as though she was recovering from flu as Elliot proudly handed over his report, although she figured she looked nothing more than sheepish as Alex turned that brilliant gaze onto her. The ADA moved closer, effectively blocking Elliot out of the conversation by turning her back ever so slightly to him.

"And how are you? Are you feeling better now?"

Olivia could see Elliot's inquisitive face as he peered around Alex's back, his eyebrow high in question. She ignored him and glanced up at the ADA before looking back down at her current report.

"Yeah. I'm fine." She croaked out around her suddenly dry throat. Her heart leapt up her throat as she felt a cool hand on her forehead. Alex had leaned forward and was checking her temperature. As soon as the hand had come, it had gone and Alex was pulling away, her high cheekbones barely hiding a slight flush.

"Well, you certainly feel fine. Although you are a little hot."

Elliot's eyes bugged out his head and Olivia restrained a groan as she watched him wrestling with a smirk.

"Right. Yeah, I, um, feel much better now," the Detective said, leaning as far away from the ADA as possible. "It was like a flash flood. There and gone in an instant." She braved a nervous laugh. "A flash flu."

Elliot guffawed as Olivia imagined digging a grave deep enough to hide her self and her lame joke. To her relief, Alex laughed too, her mouth spreading into a rare grin, flashing straight white, perfect teeth.

"Very funny, Detective."

And with that, the nervous tension that had been holding Olivia's heart in a vicious tattoo against her ribs broke and she grinned back, relaxing into her chair.

"Yes, well, I am known to be very funny when I want to be."

"Right," Elliot butted in, rolling his eyes. "Alex, please, don't encourage her. Her favourite joke is 'What happens when Satan loses his hair'."

Alex looked highly amused as she leaned against the desk, her eyes on Olivia. "Well, what happens when Satan loses his hair?"

"There'll be hell_ toupee_." Said five different voices. Fin, Munch and Cragan had just stepped out of the office. All three were grinning as Elliot broke into peals of laughter while Olivia buried her face in her hands, blushing hard before letting out a snort of laughter.

Alex laughed with the others, her eyes fixated on Olivia. The woman didn't look particularly sick, nor did she look as though she had shaken off flu. Then again, during the day on Friday, she had looked a little peaky and ill. However, the ADA had the distinct feeling she was being hoodwinked, but she didn't know as of yet how to broach the subject. Slowly, she began working on a plan that had been half formed in her mind since first meeting the Detective.

As the laughter died down she slid off the desk, smiling at the others before excusing herself, walking efficiently out of the office. She missed Olivia staring wistfully after her.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." Captain Cragan said as Munch and Fin settled behind their desks. "Get back to work." There was a collective groan before four heads bent back over their paperwork, pens scratching.

…

An hour later, Olivia's phone rang. With a sigh of relief as she placed her pen carefully on the desk, she picked up.

"Detective Olivia Benson, Special Victims Unit."

"Olivia."

It was Alex's voice – sharp, controlled and efficient. Olivia felt her brow furrow slightly as she glanced around the office, feeling suddenly cautious. After the blatant teasing this morning and the sensation of Alex's hand on her forehead, Olivia was ever so slightly skittish.

"Alex, what do you need?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner this evening?"

Olivia sat there, blinking, her mouth open in surprise. Her mind, meanwhile, was racing while her heart tripped over itself as she tried to make sense of what Alex had just said. She and the ADA had been out for dinners before – casual dinners. They'd always happened to bump into each other at work and gone to the little Italian place down the road. There'd never had an official phone call before.

"Olivia?" Alex's voice brought Olivia crashing back into the present.

"Sure," she blurted promptly. "Yeah, sounds good." Olivia tried to recover smoothly, clearing her throat slightly. "I mean, do you want me to pick you up from work or should we meet there? Do you have a place for us to eat or should we go to Frankie's down the block from you?"

Alex laughed silkily down the phone and Olivia felt the sharp knife of arousal deep in her gut. "I have a reservation already, Olivia. I'll give you the address and we can meet there at seven. Does that sound good?"

"Sure," she said again, and she cursed the fact that her vocabulary had dissolved to all but that one word.

"Excellent." Alex said before she recited the address to the flustered Detective, who scrambled for her pen before copying it down.


End file.
